Pulp Free
by thatTaylorgirl
Summary: A day off, a run to the grocery store...what's so weird about a guy wanting his OJ with no pulp?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** CSI...not my genius.

**Summary:** A day off, a trip the the market...what's so weird about a guy wanting his OJ with no pulp?

**Note: **Reviews and suggestions welcome! Hope you enjoy! Hopefully I can get a new chapter up tomorrow night! If not, look for it Wednesday!

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Twelve weeks was a long time to go without a day off. That's why, when Nick got a day off, he planned on spending the day at home. A trip to the gym may not be out of the question, but considering the five minute drive from his house, the hour he'd spend working out, and the five minute drive home, most of his plans for the day would be confined to his townhouse and most likely his bed. 

Nick loved his job. He smiled remembering the time he'd told Grissom the real reason he'd become a CSI. _I wanted to pack heat_, he'd said to his supervisor. He also remembered how adamant he had been, as a young CSI 3, to please the man he'd looked up to for so long.

The job seemed more of a rush, though, now that he worked to better himself. Since he'd learned, maybe matured would be the best word, to work for his own fulfillment, his own search for truth, rather than the approval of his boss. Sure he still got a little high from hearing his boss's approval and encouragement, but it wasn't what _drove_ him anymore, and he liked it that way. He liked who he was as a CSI and he _really_ loved his job. Though, he never thought a day off was something never to be had. He wasn't Sara after all.

**

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****Friday: 7:00 a.m.**

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"Straight off of grave and into the courtroom," Sara shook her head as she rummaged through her bag. She had already changed out of her work clothes and now stood pretty in a navy blue suit. 

"Hey, no worries," Nick smiled. "You said the case was a slam dunk."

"Oh, it is," she nodded with a yawn. "It's just Grissom put me on this new case…"she trailed off closing her locker. "I'll be lucky to make it home before shift tonight."

"Well, get your game face on," Nick said checking the safety and placing his 9mm Glock in his locker. "I heard you have Bronson for your judge."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"I wish I was," he shook his head, unbuttoning his shirt. "Catharine had the same case, she told me. Man, the last time I had him in court I was on the stand for over two hours."

"Great!" she said throwing her arms up in frustration. "Well, wish me luck. I'd hate to be late and be held in contempt. I'll see you tonight, right?"

"No. I've got the night off."

"Nice."

"Yeah, first night in twelve weeks. I'm sleeping for the next 18 hours," he smiled as he changed his shirt.

"Well, enjoy."

"I'll do that," he smiled as Sara made her way out of the locker room and Warrick made his way in, "and good luck."

"Thanks."

"So, you up for catchin' the game with me and Greg? I TiVoed ESPN," Warrick asked opening his own locker.

"Hey man, I'm off for the next, what 36 hours? I'm game," he laughed.

"Damn, you got the day off?"

"You bet your ass, I got the day off. I've worked every shift for the past twelve weeks. That makes me entitled, bro."

"Man, that sucks," the tall CSI shook his head.

"I think its called kobo, bro. I put in my time," Nick laughed putting his keys in his pocket and shutting his locker door. He patted his friend on the shoulder as he made his way to the door.

"Yeah, all right," his friend nodded. "I get it."

"Hey, I've got one stop to make first. I'll meet you at your place."

"Sweet."

It wasn't surprising to find Grissom in his office after shift. Nick would be worried if the man actually left the lab, like most employees, at the end of shift. Instead, the graveyard supervisor was buried under a pile of paperwork.

"Hey, Griss," the CSI said leaning in the doorway.

"Hey Nick, I thought you'd left already," the man looked up surprised.

"I'm on my way out. Just wanted to tell you DNA results on our rape victim should be back by shift tonight."

"Okay," he nodded leaning back in his chair taking off his reading glasses.

"I ran those treads through the database. Nothin' came back," Nick shrugged, "so I took a closer look and noticed it was a retread. Hodges is running them as we speak."

"Sounds good, I'll check on them tonight."

"I'll see you tomorrow then," the CSI nodded, turning to leave the man to his work.

"Hey Nicky," Grissom stopped him.

"Yeah," he said slowly turning to meet the man's eyes.

"Get some rest. You look like crap," he said putting on his glasses and returning to the files on his desk.

"Copy that," the CSI nodded with a small chuckle.

The weather was changing, cooling down even, nothing new for this time of year. It was actually hard to believe Thanksgiving was just a week away. Texas was a long drive, only one of the excuses Nick used for not going home for the holiday. Instead, he'd most likely work. The whole graveyard shift probably would. They were all alike in that way. A unique, odd, family.

Traffic was light, making it easy for Nick to make it to Warrick's place in under ten minutes. He didn't knock as he opened the man's apartment door, he rarely ever did. Greg was already sprawled out on a beanbag chair Nick swore Warrick had had since the mid 80's. They already had the pre-game commentary on the screen, Indianapolis vs. Cincinnati, it promised to be an interesting match-up.

"Hey," Warrick nodded as he walked into the living room from the kitchen. "Coffee's fresh."

Nick closed the door behind him and took up residence on the sofa.

"Five bucks says Cincinnati takes it," Greg said.

"Oh, it's on," Nick laughed, quick to get in on the action. "My money's on Manning."

"I'm with Nick on this one, man," Warrick shrugged. "Better odds."

"We'll see," Greg nodded, the three of them settling in for the game. "It's a brand new day, not telling what could happen."

The guys never talked much when they were together, a joke here, a put-down there, it was all in jest. There was a camaraderie among them, their entire team really. Past events had only served to cement those relationships. What with the lab explosion, and the most recent events involving Nick, it only helped solidify their bonds.

"Hey, man I'm gonna go," Nick said as the game ended. Again Greg had been ripped of his pride as his team of choice found themselves defeated. He and Greg made their way to the door.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna hit the sack," Warrick nodded rubbing his eyes with one hand, it was nearly noon.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said as he and Greg walked to their respective cars.

"See ya Greggo," Nick smiled putting on his sunglasses and sliding into the driver's seat of his truck. "Have fun at work tonight."

"Yeah, yeah," Greg waved as Nick drove off.

The sun was high. Nick pulled down his window shades and climbed into bed. It was his night time, his time to sleep, just a few hours for now. He had some errands to run before the end of regular business hours. He'd get more sleep later tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** This chapter was a little different for me. I tend to carry my stories with heavy dialogue, this chapter...not so much. I tried a little to work with Nick and the emotions he may still be dealing with post "grave danger" and even "gum drops" for that matter. I hope I did justice to it. You'll also notice...my Warrick tends to be the "single / non-married" Warrick I love so much...a little off the current CSI timeline in that regards...afterall this is fan FICTION...  
Thanks for the reviews...the story is starting to take a more solid shape in my mind...this is the result of that thus far. We'll see what chapter comes to my head for tomorrow...keep the reviews coming!

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**Friday 3:30 p.m.

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**Getting up was definitely harder than Nick had expected. He took his time, no real need to hurry, it's not like he had to rush to the lab for anything. He really liked that about today. 

Slowly making his way out of bed, Nick pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt; today it was Texas Tech, his alma mater. He made his way to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There wasn't much. He decided on a granola bar and a diet coke.

It was quiet. Not many people could be deafened by silence. It was something Nick had acquired within the past few months. He never really learned how to re-embrace the qualities of silence. He was sure there were still _some_, but for some reason, today the silence was making him want to jump out of his skin. He had to get out.

Exercise usually served as a good retreat. There was some comfort in the rhythm of running five miles. What day was it? Friday, he remembered walking into his room to grab his running shoes. He still had a few days left in the introductory offer to current gym of choice. Nothing like getting a free workout, he thought quickly packing his gym bag.

Now, where had he left his keys?

Traffic was heavy heading into town. The gym was on theother side oftown. He had already used the introductory offers at every gym between his house and the lab. He was running out of options, soon he'd have to apply for a membership, or resort to running outside. When had he become so lazy about working out?

It took forty five minutes to drive through town. Pulling into a parking spot, Nick climbed out of his truck and headed to the locker room after signing in as a guest.

Vegas was a pretty small town, considering. It still surprised Nick to realize he really didn't know anyone outside the lab. It was something he found hard to get used to when he first moved to the desert town. After growing up in a small town just outside Houston and knowing everyone, it was an adjustment to walk down the street and see different faces all the time. People weren't as friendly, maybe not as trusting, in Vegas as they were in Texas.

Running had yet to fail the CSI. Running was still reliable. It served as a good escape for him. Was he running _from_ something or _toward_ something; he still hadn't figured that one out yet. For now, the country music mix on his iPOD was enough for him.

A hot shower always seemed to best serve relaxation to his tense muscles. This time was no exception. Finishing up in the locker room, tying his shoes and stuffing his towels in his gym bag, Nick headed to his truck. He loved the way working out made him feel relaxed, alive, comfortable even.

He glanced at his watch, it was five o'clock. As if on cue, his stomach served a reminder that he hadn't eaten anything of substance since early that morning. He needed to get some food. He hadn't cooked in a long time.

Putting the key in the ignition, he pulled out of the parking lot. The sun was beginning to set. Day light savings time had long been gone. It was getting dark earlier each day. Something else he couldn't get used to. He still had to keep a light on in his house, usually down the hall, when he slept; he didn't like the dark. Night time in the desert, despite the lights of the strip, was always black to him. Especially since…

Before making a stop at the market, he pulled into a video rental store. Movies were another good escape. He needed a comedy tonight, something light.

It took him less than twenty minutes to pick a title and get back to his vehicle. This time of day, the video store was just starting to get busy. Friday nights in Vegas were still movie nights for some families, he smiled a little.

Now to the market, he needed chicken, pasta, and alfredo sauce. He wasn't sure what put him in the mood for Italian, but chicken alfredo seemed to ignite a spark with his stomach. He hadn't been to the grocery in at least three weeks. He never had time. If he wasn't working, he was catching up on sleep, or working out. Food never seemed to take top priority, and he was being reprimanded for that now, he thought as he grabbed a basket and felt his stomach churning.

Breakfast burritos, apples, a bunch of bananas, a bag of corn chips, a loaf of bread, some turkey, cheese, and ham. He could at least pack his lunch and take it to work this week. Should he go on a whim and buy some vegetables? He threw in some celery, carrots, and a bunch of broccoli. Might as well be well rounded. He needed some milk and juice, too.

His cell phone rang as he walked through the aisles. His caller ID told him it was Warrick calling.

"Hey, man" he said answering on the third ring. "Yeah, I just went to work out. I'm grabbing some food now. Man, I haven't gone grocery shopping in a month. Are you already at the lab?"

"Yeah, I had some DNA results to check on for Grissom. I think the team's all here, minus you, punk," Warrick said on the other end.

"Yeah, well what can I say?"

"Hey, just wanted to let you know I'm taping the game tonight, there's no way your watching it without me.

"Dude, that's the only reason you called me, bro? How long have we worked together?" he asked with a grin doing his best to dodge in and out of aisles and around displays of food.

"Alright, man. Just checkin'. Greg's comin' over after shift. We'll save your spot."

"Hey, man, I was dependable in high school, remember? I'll text you with the scores," he joked.

"Hey man, don't be cruel."

"Yeah, yeah," he laughed. "I'll see you in the morning," he nodded hanging up the phone. He was in the dairy section. He picked up a half gallon of milk, expiration date three weeks from today. Good. Now, some OJ. The man may have been in his thirties, but he still enjoyed his OJ minus the pulp. If he wanted the pulp in his juice, he'd settle for eating an orange. When it came to juice, he wanted just that, juice. Finding what he wanted, he made his way to the front of the store, but not without making a run to grab some popcorn and a case of beer. He'd grab a couple sodas from the cooler at the register.

He didn't see the two men enter the store. He didn't even see them when they walked right past him in the bread aisle. He only noticed them when one pulled out a gun and held it to the cashier's head. They were wearing black ski masks. Original, he thought as the events began to unfold in front of him. It seemed like slow motion.

The guys weren't much taller than him, 6'1" or 6'2" maybe. They weren't very muscular either, he noticed through their black t-shirts. They were scrawny even. He could take them.

"Let's go! Let's go! The money, lady! Don't make me kill you," the one on the right said throwing a duffle bag at the young woman, he was left handed. The girl couldn't be any older than 23, Nick thought. God, she looked scared. She was shaking uncontrollably, barely able to open her register.

"Not fast enough!" the second man said firing his weapon. Screams erupted from around the store as the girl went down and the cash drawer slid open. People began running through the store, employees, patrons; they wanted to see what was happening with their own frightened eyes. Nick had a front row seat of the whole show.

It was obvious these guys wanted money and they weren't afraid to get it. The question was; was this going to turn into a hostage situation?


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** a new chapter...surprise, surprise! Still working on the full direction of this story...but it's definitely looking promising! Solidification of plot points is definitely happening...so please be patient...any suggestions? It may be another day...maybe two before I can get chapter 4 up. Happy Thanksgiving y'all!

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**Friday 6:00 p.m.

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**It had been a hell of a day, first a seemingly unsolvable case and now this. Damn! This was not happening. _Not today_, Nick thought taking in the scene from his slightly hidden position. 

"Hurry up man!" one of the robbers said to the other as he scanned the store with his gun, there was something about his voice. Things were quickly getting out of hand. People were screaming, crying, huddling away from the scene and the robbers were starting to panic. It was not a good combination, Nick knew. One person dead was enough.

Keep it together, he thought. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911 quickly returning the object to his pocket. No need to blow his cover.

"Alright! Everyone to the back, now!" robber number one yelled firing his gun into the air. "Nobody's leaving the store."

Panicked screams filled the air. Why had the guys chosen rush hour at the supermarket to bust in?

Nick tried his best to catch all he could with his eyes. That was odd, he thought, noticing the gunmen wore white Nike sneakers. With the black attire they both sported, it definitely stuck out.

The patrons of the store were corralled into the back store room; Nick made sure he was between the witnesses and the gunmen. He could handle a gun to his face if he had to, hell he had twice before, and he didn't see much of a choice given the situation.

The criminals knew how many people were in the store, they had taken an inventory.

"We're missing a person," robber number two said quickly counting the people.

"There she is," the other said running toward the front of the store. A lady was making a break for the door. Her young child held tightly to her chest. The gun fire stopped as quickly as it had started. Another dead body to process, Nick thought closing his eyes. When would this end?

And then it was over. The gunmen were gone. The witnesses, all nineteen of them, sat huddled in the store room. Nick quickly took stock of the situation and pulled out his cell phone, had the call gone through? He let out a sigh of relief realizing his call had been processed. One thing done right.

Police officers were already on the scene. How much time had past? Twenty after six according to his watch. Nick was the first to emerge from the back room. After a few calming words to the other patrons, he made his way to the first officer on the scene.

A day off. Yeah right.

"Hey Stokes, what are you doing here?" Officer Metcalfe said. The guy was a jerk.

"Had the night off," the CSI started. "I put in the call to 911. I was running some errands, two guys came in, robbed the place. CSI on the way?" There was no way in hell he was giving any information to _this_ cop.

"Right behind me," he nodded as Brass entered the scene.

"Nicky," he said sounding surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"My day off, I decide to run some errands," he started, "and all hell breaks loose. There're seventeen other witnesses," he couldn't control his emotions any longer.

Brass quickly took charge of the scene, using the officers to gather witnesses for questioning. He would need all of their statements.

"Tell me what happened," the detective said placing a hand on the CSI's shoulder noticing the younger man shaking. "Take a deep breath."

"I was grabbing some popcorn, aisle 4," he pointed. "Next thing I know these two guys wearing ski masks are yelling for the cashier to hand over the money in her drawer," he shrugged as Grissom and Catharine walked up to the two men.

"Nicky?" Catharine asked concerned. She could see he was emotionally shaken.

"I had a clear view. I got as much as I could for you guys. They were white guys, about 6'1", maybe 6'2". They were scrawny. Dressed in black. They wore ski masks, so I didn't see their faces."

"That's okay," Grissom nodded. "What else?"

"They used semi-automatic weapons. One guy held the gun to the girl's head," he pointed to the cashier, "the other threw her a bag to put the money in. He was left handed."

"Which one?" Grissom asked.

"What?" Nick asked. Was shock setting in? How much stress could one man endure?

"Which one was left handed?" his supervisor asked again.

"The guy that threw the bag, he was left handed. The other guy kept watch over the entrance and the store. The whole thing was falling apart when it started. The girl was so scared she couldn't do what they wanted. The two guys even seemed panicked."

"What happened next?" Brass asked.

"She wasn't fast enough. They shot her in the head," he shook his head, a sob catching in his throat. Damn it! He didn't want to break. Not again.

"Take your time," Brass nodded, his hand returning to the CSI's shoulder.

"What about the woman at the door?" Catharine asked. Her posture meant business, but her voice conveyed the mother side that came out when any of her 'kids' were hurting.

"She was just trying to protect her kid," Nick shook his head. "Everyone in here was screaming, trying to get away from the gunfire. When they had gotten the cash, they made us all get in the back room. The store was pretty empty, only nineteen people counting me. They got us to the back room, noticed one missing. I saw her running to the door. Her son was crying."

"She was protecting her child," Catharine said noticing the position of the body. The bullet had ripped through both the mother and the child, killing them both instantly. The mother lay face down, on top of her baby.

"They were wearing white shoes, both of them," Nick said taking a bottle of watered Brass offered him. "Nikes."

"You noticed their shoes?" the detective asked with a small grin.

"They were covered in black, their shoes stuck out," the CSI nodded. "You'll want to get the surveillance tapes," he said. "I don't think they took the time to disable them."

"Yeah, we'll get them," Grissom nodded, he never stopped observing the scene. Food was strewn all over the place.

"You should be able to find shell casings, and even bullets," Nick said.

"Bullets?" Grissom asked, surprise in his voice.

"Yeah. They fired shots into the air," he pointed up.

The ceiling was riddled with bullets. At least five visible penetration points, the man noticed.

"Grissom, one other thing," Nick stopped his boss as he attempted to begin processing the scene. "The kid's voice."

"Kid?"

"The robber," Nick nodded. "I've heard his voice before. I can't place it right now, but I _know_ I've heard it. He looked right at me and completely freaked. I saw it in his eyes. This guy knows me, Griss."


	4. Chapter 4

**Note:** I've updated this chapter! After a comment I got, and some thinking and reconsideration...I thougth my characterization of Nick was a little off and made an adjustment or two to the end of the first part of this chapter. Hopefully it captures Nicka little more true to character. Thanks for the suggestions!

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**Friday 9:00 p.m.

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**It had taken nearly three hours to process the crime scene, not to mention the hour and a half it took for, Dave Phillips, the coroner to arrive on the scene. It had been a busy night. Though forced to keep his hands to himself, Nick hung around the market watching Grissom and Catharine work. He wasn't ready to go home, despite his desperate need for sleep. He couldn't seem to get the voice of the robber out of his head. The damn thing sounded so familiar.

Now Grissom and Catharine were packing up their gear. They had gotten all the evidence they needed, and the bodies had already been transferred to the morgue.

"Nick, go home," Grissom said walking up to the younger CSI. "Get some sleep," he said with a nod. "Come in tomorrow night."

Catharine followed the two men to the parking lot. The store would remain closed for the next several days, allowing the CSIs to return to the scene if need be.

"You going to be okay?" Catharine asked putting her arm around Nick's waist.

"Yeah, mom, I'll be fine," he said with a good natured smile draping his arm around her shoulders. He almost resembled the boy who came into the lab as a rookie from Texas.

"See you tomorrow night. Get some rest." She gave him a sideways hug and watched him climb into his truck as she and Grissom headed to their Denali.

Nick watched them pull away before he started the ignition. It was dark in the parking lot; the lights had never come on. He watched Catharine turn the SUV into traffic and head back toward the lab. Making his mind up to go home, he shifted his truck into gear. Remembering he didn't have any food in his house, he decided to try his luck at another market. About two blocks down the road, he pulled into a parking spot. He was back in the Vegas traffic within a half hour with a sack full of food. It was too late to cook, so he'd pull into a drive-thru closer to home.

Nick threw his keys on the table as he walked in the door. Throwing the grocery sack on the kitchen counter he made his way into his den. The food could wait to be put away. Hell, it'd be easier to access if it stayed on the counter anyway. He'd really become a sloppy housekeeper. His phone rang as he flipped over to the current game on ESPN. College basketball.

"Hello."

"Hey man, what's going on?" It was Warrick.

"Hey," he said falling onto his couch. His recently purchased Chinese food was getting cold in its bag on his coffee table. "Not much; just got home."

"Yeah, I just talked with Cath. You okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, and he meant it really. "Tired, I guess," he yawned. "I hadn't exactly planned on getting stuck in the middle of a grocery store robbery."

"Do you need anything?" his friend asked.

"Nah, I'm good. I made a stop at another store and got some stuff. Thanks, though."

"Anytime, bro. Look, I've got to go. Grissom's breathing down my neck to get some stuff done. I'll catch ya later."

"Later, man," Nick said flipping his phone closed. His stomach was starting to remind him of how hungry he was. It had been nearly seven hours since he'd last had anything to eat so; he grabbed his Kung Pao Chicken and entertained his stomach. A full stomach definitely made it easier to sleep. After putting away his groceries and double checking every lock in his house, a newly acquired obsession, he took a sleeping pill and headed to his bedroom. He had, not too long ago, weaned himself off the need for the sleep aid. His sleep had slowly become more natural. In fact he hadn't slept any better than he had in the past couple of weeks. But, the face of the terrified cashier still clouded his mind. The cries of the mother and child haunted him. Falling into bed, he fell into a fitful sleep.

**Saturday 7:00 a.m.****

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**His alarm was going off. Had he set it? He couldn't remember. Slowly becoming more coherent, Nick rolled over and hit the snooze button on his bedside alarm clock. He needed another hour, maybe two. The Packers' game could wait, he thought rolling over in an attempt to fall back asleep.

His plans were thwarted by the quiet, yet distinct, buzzing of his cell phone. Coming to terms with the fact that his sleep was had, he rolled back over and grabbed his phone.

"Yeah," he said his voice very much thick with sleep.

"Did I wake you?" It was Catharine.

"Kinda," he said yawning. He kept his eyes closed, hoping it'd let him hold onto the sweetness of a drug-induced sleep a little longer.

"Sorry," she sounded sincere. "Look, Grissom needs us all in by four tonight."

"Got it."

"He wanted me to let you know."

"It'll be like old times," he said referring to their stint on swing shift. "See you then," he hung up. He was almost ready to get out of bed.

He spent his morning watching the movie he'd rented the night before and surfing the internet. After calling Warrick they had made plans to catch the game around noon. By eleven, he had grown restless. He had already e-mailed all of his family members wishing them a happy Thanksgiving, telling them of yet another holiday they would have to celebrate without him. He even took the time to tell them a little about work, and how he'd been passing his time. After surfing the internet for nearly an hour he grew bored. He never kept much in his house for entertainment. His house existed mainly as a place for the man to sleep between shifts. Sure he had a decent entertainment system, but it could only provide so much…entertainment. His real home seemed to be the lab these days.

By eleven thirty he'd grown so antsy he decided to go to Warrick's early. Maybe traffic would be heavy enough to give credence to the early departure. He got lucky.

"Hey man," Warrick nodded as Nick walked into his apartment. The man looked like he'd just rolled out of bed.

"Hey, got the game on?" he asked joining the man in the living room.

"Just now," he nodded taking a seat on the sofa. He threw Nick a soda from the coffee table.

They watched the game in silence, sans the occasional comment on the game itself. By three thirty the game was ending and the men were heading to the lab. Greg had never made it. He'd had a rough shift the night before, Warrick told Nick as they headed out of the apartment. He, Greg, and Sara had been given a double homicide with virtually no leads. It was a nightmare of a case for each of them, though slowly the case almost solved itself.

Nick could only imagine what case he would pick up coming in today. He'd hoped he'd be put on the robbery case with Grissom and Catharine. Chances were slim. Still, a man could hope.

He pulled into the crime lab parking lot and into a spot next to Warrick. The two walked in together making an initial stop at their lockers before heading to the break room. Grissom wanted a team meeting. It usually meant one thing: something was up. The two CSIs grabbed a cup of coffee and waited.


	5. Chapter 5

**Note:** Be sure to check out chapter four! I made a small addition to the end of part one of that chapter after receiving a suggestion and realizing I hadn't quite captured the true Nick...so hopefully it's a little better.  
This chapter...just a basic continuation. Still working out a few bumps in the plot...but it's looking promising. Hope you enjoy!

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**Saturday 4:00 p.m.

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**"All hands are on deck for this one," Grissom said coming into the break room. The whole team was in. "We're going to divide and conquer." 

"What's up?" Catherine asked as she and the others followed their supervisor into the conference room.

"Our robbery/homicide has turned into a serial," he started handing each CSI a folder of information. "They've hit three other stores and killed five more."

"What…the one from Friday night?" Nick asked looking up from the pages in front of him.

"Make that six killed," Brass said glumly as he entered the room. "I just got back from the hospital, the third cashier just died."

"These guys aren't going to stop until they're caught," Grissom said taking a seat at the table with his team. "Warrick I need you and Greg to tackle the surveillance videos from each store."

"You got it," the older CSI nodded giving Greg a pat on the back.

"Sara I need you to process the vehicle coming into the garage."

"The robbers' car?" she asked

"One of them," he nodded.

"We had a lead on a '95 Monte Carlo," Brass said. "A witness from the second scene swore it was what she saw the robbers get away in. She gave us a partial plate number and we put out an APB. We found it deserted out on the I-15. We think they dumped it and picked up another one."

"I'm on it," Sara said with a nod reading through her own stack of papers.

"Catherine I need you to back me up at the third store," he said starting to gather his papers. "I need to go back over there, I feel like there's something I missed."

"What about me?" Nick asked.

"Follow me to my office," Grissom said standing from his seat. The team slowly began to disperse, each to their assigned job.

"How'd you sleep last night?" he asked.

"Fine," Nick shrugged taking a seat in front of the man's desk. "I took a sleeping pill, slept through the night."

"You still take them regularly?"

"No, that's the first one I've taken in over a month. What's up, Griss? You don't think I can handle this case?"

"What can you tell me about the robbers?" he asked ignoring Nick's question.

"I told you all I could last night."

"I know; I'm not talking description. You said the robber knew you. You said _you_ knew his voice. Do you think he's from a past case?"

"Maybe, it's hard to say."

"Go through the files of your past cases. Go back as far as you need to. Do whatever it takes to figure it out. We need to catch these guys before they hit another store."

Nick nodded and rose from his seat.

"We've been through this before, Griss. You know I'd be honest if I wasn't dealing, right?" he said stopping at the door.

"Keep me posted," Grissom nodded from his desk chair. "Hey, Nick," he called stopping the CSI short of shutting the door. "I trust your judgment."

Nick left the man's office and headed to evidence lock-up. He had several years' worth of case files to sort through. Another long shift was breathing down his neck.

* * *

**Saturday 6:30 p.m.****

* * *

**It had been twenty-four hours since the first robbery. The CSI team, all except Sara, arrived at the fourth crime scene, Brass was already on location. Another market had been robbed, apparently by the same two robbers. One cashier was shot, a fatal blow to her head. 

"Damn," Nick said shaking his head as he walked into the store alongside Catherine and Warrick.

"Look familiar?" Warrick asked setting down his field kit to pull on a pair of latex gloves.

"_Too_ familiar," his friend nodded pulling on his own gloves. The two of them made their way to the back of the store to begin processing the scene. The others took the other corners of the store. They'd process their part of the scene working their way to the front of the store.

"I've got blood drops," Warrick called from in front of a set of double swinging doors. "It looks like they're leading into this stock room," he said as Nick joined him and started snapping photos of the blood trail.

"The robbers gathered everyone in the back store room," Nick nodded recalling his own experience.

"Before or after they robbed the joint?"

"After," he said as Warrick pulled out a cotton swab to collect samples of the blood.

"It looks like there's a trail leading into the stock room and then back out," Warrick said pointing to specific droplets. "See the directionality?"

"Yeah," Nick nodded snapping more photos, making sure to zoom in on specific drops.

Four and a half hours later, the graveyard shift was just beginning to wrap up their work. The robbers were starting to hit larger grocery stores; it was taking longer to process each scene.

"Nick, follow up with ballistics on the bullets we retrieved from the first and second crime scene. Have them match those bullets to these," Grissom said handing him envelopes containing not only bullets, but shell casings as well.

"You got it," he nodded. "Warrick and I gathered some blood samples from the back of the store, in the back stock room. Our suspects like to corral everyone into the stock room before they make their getaway."

"Good," Grissom nodded. "Have Warrick follow up with DNA. Have them compare the DNA to some hairs Sara found from the vehicle."

"I'm on it," Warrick nodded joining them at the store entrance.

"I've got more surveillance for you and Greg to watch," Catherine smiled holding up a brown paper bag. It contained at least ten video tapes.

Greg was just finishing up his collection and joining the rest of the team.

"How'd you do?" Warrick asked.

"Well, I got a lot of footprints," he sighed taking a look over at the waiting witnesses. There had to be at least forty people waiting around. Some were waiting to give their statements to Brass; others were simply waiting to be told they could go home. "Should I print them all here, or take their shoes back to the lab?" he asked Grissom taking a look at the weary crowd.

"Quick and painless, Greg," Grissom nodded. "We've already fingerprinted them and gotten DNA samples."

"Grab their shoes and run," Nick said giving his friend a pat on the shoulder. "We'll see you back at the lab," he nodded to Grissom and Catherine. He and Warrick made their way out of the store and climbed into their Denali. It was a warm night for November. Making sure all the evidence was secure in their kits, they rolled the windows partway down and headed back to the lab. Their regularly scheduled shift was just beginning and they could already feel a double bearing down on them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Note:** another chapter...hope you like!

* * *

**Sunday 3:00 a.m.** **

* * *

**Nick's coffee cup was empty; he needed more. He closed his eyes and slowly rolled his neck, hoping to relieve the tension that continued to mount the longer he read through his past case files. For nearly four hours he had sifted through papers, hoping to be blindsided by a suspect. So far nothing was hitting him. And for the life of him, he couldn't get the image or the sounds for that matter, of that crying child out of his mind. 

He needed a break.

He got up to refill his coffee cup.

"Hey man, you think an IV would work better?" Warrick asked walking into the break room as Nick topped off his cup. Tonight the coffee would stay black. "You haven't stopped since we got back from the field."

He could have responded, could have been a real smart ass about it, but he just shook his head.

"What's up?" his friend asked.

"I've been through every case file I've had since I was a rookie. I can't, for the life of me, figure out who this guy is," he said crossing the room and taking a seat on the sofa. "This guy looked right at me the other night, he knew me."

"Maybe he's not from a past case," Warrick shrugged.

"He's _gotta_ be," Nick shook his head. "It doesn't make sense," he leaned his head back on the sofa. "I can't explain it. I _know_ this guy's voice."

"Hey guys," Greg said breezing into the room.

"Hey, anything on the shoeprints?" Warrick asked.

"Well, I've successfully matched every person in the store to a foot print. I have two prints that don't match anything, well except each other."

"Could be our robbers," Warrick shrugged. "You have any specifics on the prints?"

"Male sizes ten and twelve. They're both the same shoe, just different sizes. I'm running a comparison of each through a database now."

"Twenty bucks says they were left by two pairs of Nikes," Nick said taking a drink of his coffee.

"How do you know that?" Greg asked leaning against the cabinet, his own cup of coffee in hand.

"I saw their shoes. White shoes bottoming out a solid black wardrobe, an easy spot," he said standing up. "Let Griss know. I've got to check in with ballistics."

"These guys are giving us a run for our money," Warrick said watching Nick walk down the hall.

"You think we're chasing geese?" Greg asked taking up Nick's place on the couch.

"I don't know, man."

* * *

"Hey Bobby," Nick said walking into the ballistics lab, "anything on my bullets?" 

"I was just finishing them up," the ammunitions analyst, Bobby Dawson, said in his own southern dialect. "I was taking a look at the bullets you brought in from the fourth robbery, take a look at the striations," he pointed to the scope.

"It looks like something in the grooves," Nick said, his nose down the scope. "There's some sort of powder residue."

"Weird, huh?" the lab tech smiled. "I sent a sample over to trace. Now take a look at this," he said pointing to a computer monitor. "I've lined up a sample from each crime scene. On the right we have a bullet from the first crime scene, and then the second, third, and fourth."

"Striations are identical," Nick said a slight puzzled look on his face. "There were two guns at the first scene."

"Well, all these bullets came from the same gun. From what I've been given I'd say only one gun was fired." Bobby said heading over the to gun locker. "I'd say you're looking for a Colt .45 semi-automatic." He handed the gun model to Nick. "You find that gun; you find your murder weapon."

"Well, it's a start," Nick said looking the weapon over, the events of the night before flashing in his mind.

"Get this, there are only 50 of these babies registered in the greater Las Vegas area," Bobby said leading Nick to another computer.

"It'll take while to whittle that list down," Nick sighed scanning the list of registered gun owners. "Wait a second…" he trailed off, his eyes holding on the computer screen.

"What?" Bobby asked craning his neck to get a better look at the names. Nick pointed at the screen. "Cynthia McCallum?" he asked reading the name commanding the CSI's attention. "You know her?"

"_Of_ her. Thanks Bobby," he said rushing out of the lab.

"You want these reports?" the lab tech asked holding up the files, but Nick was out of earshot.

"Hey Nick," Sara said coming out of the evidence room.

"Not now," he waved walking down the hall.

"What was that about?" Sara asked as Catherine joined her from the DNA lab.

"Who knows," she shrugged. "What did you get from the car?"

"Well, I'll tell you what I didn't get," she sighed as the two of them walked to Grissom's office. Frustration was mounting the further they got in the case.

Greg and Warrick were already in the supervisor's office.

"Where's Nick?" the boss asked.

"He took off down the hall in a hurry," Sara pointed over her shoulder.

"So, what have we got?" Grissom asked shaking his head, getting back to business.

"We're still waiting on DNA to get us the results on the blood. Could be another day on it," Warrick said, he was leaning against a filing cabinet, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"I have two sets of shoe prints," Greg chimed in. "They don't belong to any of the witnesses or victims," he handed Grissom a copy of the prints he'd made. "I ran them through a database; they were left by a Nike shoe, a Nike Cortez, to be specific, sizes ten and twelve."

"Nicely done, Greg," Grissom said looking at the photos. "Now we just need to find the shoes and the feet they belong to."

"I've got calls in to Nike retailers in Vegas to see if they carry that shoe and records of who bought them within the last year," the CSI continued.

"What did you get from the car?" Grissom asked turning his attention to Sara.

"Not much. Some fast food wrappers, some soda cans a couple beer bottles. I'm having it all tested for DNA, it'll be a while. I'll have it compared to the DNA from the crime scene."

"I just got back from trace," Catherine added. "There was a powder found in the bullet striations. It was cornstarch."

"Cornstarch?" Warrick asked, beating Grissom to the punch.

"Maybe our suspect has a rash?" Greg shrugged.

"Maybe," Grissom nodded. "Follow up on it. Go back to the scene if you need to," he said to Catherine. "Make sure you take someone with you," he pointed a finger. He looked back down at the files on his desk, a signal for the team to disperse, to continue the investigation. He'd have to check in with Nick, it wasn't like him to miss a head-banging session.

Warrick beat him to the punch, again. Walking through the halls of the lab, he found his partner in the hole-in-the-wall they had the nerve to call an office. He was buried deep in case files.

"What's up, bro?" he asked knocking lightly on the door jam. "Not like you to miss out on a team meeting."

"I had something to follow up on," he said briefly looking up from the file in front of him. "Hey, you remember that case we got a few years back? The one where the kids were pulling the "Jackass" stunts?"

"Yeah," Warrick nodded, "Bamboo Russian Roulette."

"Bobby matched all the bullets from the scenes to a Colt .45. Turns out Cynthia McCallum is one of fifty registered owners of a Colt."

"Cynthiana McCallum…"Warrick said thinking back to the case. "She was the mother of the victim."

"Yeah. Remember I told you the guy in the robbery knew me?"

"You think the robber…"

"Is Timothy McCallum's older brother," Nick nodded.

"Guess we should catch up with the family. You thinking an early morning wake-up call?" Warrick smiled.

"I'll call Brass," Nick nodded reaching for his cell and following Warrick back down to Grissom's office. Time to fill in the boss.


	7. Chapter 7

**Note:** so sorry for the delay in updating. between helping out with the family business everyday and then my parents deciding to do all their Christmas shopping online this year...the computer has become prime real estate in my house. so without further delay...here is chapter seven! hope y'all enjoy. i'll try (now that all Christmas shopping is done) to update more frequently...perhaps having chapter eight up by Wednesday latest! thanks for all the reviews...they make me smile!

* * *

**Sunday 8:00 a.m.****

* * *

**

Brass was waiting in his car outside the McCallum family home. He could have been sleeping from the reaction he gave as Nick tapped on the driver side window. The detective nearly jumped through the roof.

"Shit, Nicky!" he said climbing out of the Taurus. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry, man," the CSI smiled patting the man on the shoulder.

"You sleepin' on the job?" Warrick laughed as the men congregated at the rear of the car, just in front of the walkway leading to the house.

"Had a long night," the detective shrugged.

"Preaching to the choir," Nick nodded. "You been here long?"

"Just got here. I was waiting for you guys to show up. You said the lady owns a Colt .45?"

"Yeah, it's the same kind of gun used in all four grocery store robberies," Nick nodded, his hands on his hips. He gave the house a good once over. It was a typical Vegas home, a two floor white stucco with a one two garage. From the looks of things it had been a while since the house had last been painted.

"Well let's get this over with," Brass sighed leading the way up the front walk. "If all goes well I'll buy you breakfast," he said ringing the doorbell.

A couple minutes past before Mrs. McCallum opened the front door. She was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved tee shirt sporting the UNLV logo. She had aged considerably since the last time Nick and Warrick had seen her. Losing a son could do that to a person, Warrick thought as he removed his sun glasses.

"Mrs. McCallum, I'm Detective Jim Brass. This is Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes of the Crime Lab," he said displaying his badge. "May we come in?"

"Oh my God," she said brining her hand to her mouth. "Please don't tell me…Kevin…" she trailed off.

"Ma'am, we just want to talk with you," Brass said raising a hand to calm the lady. The three men huddled on the small front porch must have been a sight for the neighbors to see.

"So Kevin's okay?" she asked slowly opening the screen door to allow the detective and CSIs access to her home. "Wait a minute," she started as the men entered the front vestibule, "I remember you guys," she said getting a better look at the two criminalists.

"Mrs. McCallum, we understand you own a Colt .45," Nick said with a nod of acknowledgement yet getting right down to business. The sooner this was done the better. He remembered the case from a few years back. It wasn't a pretty one; a dead kid never was. This particular case had proven just how reckless and irresponsible kids could be. For kicks, the kids had attempted several stunts like those done on the MTV show "Jackass." Videotape had caught them all on tape. As a result, a kid ended up dead, Timmy McCallum.

"Yes," she nodded crossing her arms across her chest as if to ward off the cold. She didn't welcome them any further than the front foyer. "Why?"

"We're following all possible leads in a chain of grocery store robberies," Brass said. "We'd like to see the gun."

"Do you have a warrant?" she asked. The air in the house suddenly grew twenty degrees colder.

"Do we need one?" Brass asked.

"I haven't had the gun out since my husband bought it over twenty years ago," she shrugged not ready to help them out. "I don't even know where it is."

"Do you mind if we have a look around?" Warrick asked.

"Yes, I do mind," she said the chill now in her voice. "You guys ripped my life apart three years ago; I'm not going to let you rip my home apart as well. If you want to look through my things you come back with a court order," she said opening the front door. It was their cue to leave.

"Just one more question," Nick stopped on the front porch. "How's Kevin doing?"

"I haven't talked to him in a month," she shrugged. "He's a senior at UNLV," she said ending the conversation as she shut the door.

Things hadn't gone as smoothly as the criminalists had hoped. In fact they were no where nearer a solid lead than they were before their trip to the McCallum homestead. Frustration was mounting. Nick pinched the bridge of his nose hoping to ward off the headache he felt starting behind his eyes. He put on his sunglasses to ward off the glare of the early morning sun.

"Damn," Warrick said leaning against the detective's car. "There was a fire in her eyes."

"But it felt as cold as January in Michigan," Brass said.

"We need to get that gun," Nick said pulling out the keys to the SUV he and Warrick had used to get to the house.

"I'll call Judge Harwell," the man said pulling out his cell phone. "We'll have that warrant in five minutes tops," he smiled punching in the necessary numbers.

Within fifteen minutes the detective and two criminalists, field kits in hand, were back on the McCallum front porch.

"Knock, knock," the detective smiled waving a piece of paper in front of Mrs. McCallum's screen door. "How's this for service?" he asked practically letting himself in the front door. "Why don't we chat while these guys do their jobs?" he said leading the lady outside. It was still quite warm for late November; it was already nearing 60 degrees.

Nick pulled on a pair of latex gloves as he headed upstairs. Warrick stayed downstairs and covered the kitchen and living room. It was a three bedroom house. The first room was Mrs. McCallum's. It was fairly tidy, though the bed remained unmade. There was no obvious sign of a gun or a lock box. Nick proceeded to search the connected bathroom as well as the remaining two bedrooms and additional bathroom.

It had been three years since the death of her youngest son, yet the boy's bedroom remained as though the boy had just gone to school for the day. Nick shook his head as he entered the boy's room and continued his work. He hadn't found much thus far.

Entering the final bedroom, Kevin's room, he smiled. "Hadn't talked to him in a month, huh?" Nick said to himself noting the well lived in room. The bed was left unmade; clothes lay over the chair next to the desk; on the desk lay a laptop computer. Taking a quick cruise through the most recently visited websites, he continued his search. Lifting the sheets to peer under the bed, Nick smiled to himself.

"Jackpot!" he said pulling out a metal lock box. It was empty of a gun, though a few empty shell casings remained.

Nick finished his search in the second bathroom. Finding a dripping faucet, a wet bar of soap and a pile of dirty clothes he made his way back down to the front entrance. Warrick was there waiting with Brass and Mrs. McCallum.

"I thought you said you hadn't talked to Kevin in a month?" he asked pointing his thumb over his shoulder up the stairs.

"I…haven't," she shrugged, her gaze becoming slightly shifty.

"It looks to me that someone's been using his room and bathroom recently. You want to tell me you're renting out?" Nick asked.

"So, Kevin came home last night," she shrugged. "So what?"

"So what?" Nick asked. "So, I found this under Kevin's bed," he held up the lock box he had sealed in a clear plastic bag. "You want to explain this?"

"It's a lock box," she shrugged.

"You don't know anything about this?" Nick asked. "How about the shell casings I found inside it? Or how about the Cold .45 I _didn't_ find in it?"

"I told you, I haven't seen or thought about the gun since my husband bought it twenty years ago."

"You see," Nick nodded, "that doesn't make much since either, 'cause the gun is registered in your name."

"My husband bought it for me," she sighed with a roll or her eyes. "He worked nights when the boys were small. He thought it'd be good protection. I never used it, never had it out of its box."

"So where's the gun now?" Brass asked.

"I don't know," she said with another dramatic sigh.

"And Kevin?" Nick asked.

"We'll need to talk to him," Brass nodded. "Do you know where we can find him?"

"He lives on campus," she said still not wanting to cooperate. "You should be able to find him in his dorm," she said reluctantly writing his address on a scrap piece of paper.

"Thank you," Brass said taking the piece of paper and leading the CSIs outside. "We'll be in touch."

"Detective," Mrs. McCallum stopped the men halfway down the front walk, "Kevin's a good boy."

"I'm sure he is," the detective nodded as the CSIs continued to their Denali.

"So…" Warrick said as he and Nick loaded their gear into the back of the SUV.

"We've got nothin'," Nick shook his head shutting the car door.

"We've had less," Warrick shrugged.

"Yeah and we've had a hell of a lot more," he said tossing his friend the keys. "You drive. Hey Brass, we'll see you back at the lab," he called across the street as Brass was getting into his car. The man nodded with a wave as they climbed into their respective vehicles and drove back to PD.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note:** I had hoped to get this chapter up last night...but my dad pulled rank and took over the computer...the joys of living at home. So, this story is very much an adventure to write...as I get into each chapter...something new takes form, so we'll see where the rest of this thing takes me. I hope you're enjoying it so far...let me know your thoughts.

* * *

**Sunday 12:00 p.m.****

* * *

**

The scheduled graveyard shift had long since ended. Warrick had gone home to catch a few hours of sleep, as had Sara, Catherine and Greg. Nick, however, lingered in the lab. He couldn't make himself go home.

Walking through the lab he realized how quiet it had become for a Sunday afternoon. The hum of the DNA lab was muted by a closed door. Mia had gone home hours ago, the new day shift techie stood in her place. He'd have to wait for shift tonight to get any results back.

He found his way into the A/V lab not surprised to find Grissom hard at work viewing video. Nick took up the empty seat next to his boss.

"I thought you'd gone home," the man said turning his gaze toward the CSI.

"Nah," he shrugged taking a look at the stack of videos before him.

"What'd you get from the McCallum house?"

"An empty lock box and a few shell casings, that's about it. We got an address for the son. He's a student at UNLV. Warrick's coming' back early so we can head over there."

"How are you holding up?" the man asked, putting a pause on his video.

"I'm fine," Nick nodded with a small sigh. He really didn't want to start this right now... or really ever for that matter; at least not in the lab.

"You look tired."

"I'll live. No worries, Griss," he smiled, hoping it offered the man some reassurance. "What have you got on the video?" he pointed to the screen.

"Surveillance from the four grocery stores," he said turning back to the monitor. "I've already looked through the first two robberies. These guys are meticulous," Grissom said starting up the video.

"Looks like they're keeping a schedule?" Nick asked.

"They enter each store at the exact same time," Grissom nodded. "They do a walk through of the store…"

"Taking inventory of possible witnesses?" Nick asked.

"Maybe," his boss nodded. "Then they hold up the first cashier, and then…" he trailed off allowing the video to show what he didn't want to say. The cashier was shot once in the head and the suspects took the cash before corralling the patrons of the store into a back room.

"They only go for the first register," Nick nodded. "It doesn't make much sense. It's like they're not really interested in the cash."

"If they were, you'd think they'd hit all the registers and take their time doing it," Grissom said stopping the tape.

"These guys weren't just meticulous, they were scared. I saw it in the guy's eyes."

"We're missing something," Grissom said shaking his head as the phone in the lab rang. "A/V lab, Grissom," he said picking up the receiver next to him. "I'm looking at them now," he nodded after a pause. Nick's curiosity was peaked. "Alright, I'll look into it," he nodded hanging up the phone and rummaging through the stack of tapes. Finding the tape he wanted he quickly popped it into the video player. "That was Catherine," he said to Nick as if he had forgotten the man was sitting next to him. "She went back to the fourth scene. There was trace found on some bullets from the store."

"It came back cornstarch," Nick nodded.

"She found bottles off powder in the fourth store; several had erupted in the gunfire."

"Hopefully the videos caught something," Nick nodded picking up the man's trail of thinking. The men watched the video in silence as the two suspects entered the store; the surveillance clock read 5:00 p.m. Within five minutes they were back at the first register, their guns drawn. "Hold on," Nick said, "take it back a little."

"What'd you see?" Grissom asked rewinding the tape.

"There," Nick pointed to the top right corner of the screen. "Look, there're two suspects at the register, but there's a third guy. Right there," he pointed.

"They're evolving," Grissom said, almost questioned as he watched the third black-clad suspect in the video. He didn't stay in the screen long. "There were only two suspects at the first store, right?"

"Yeah," Nick nodded shuffling through video tapes to pull up a new angle. He handed Grissom the video and watched as the new angle gave them a better view of the third suspect. "There he is."

"He's staying in the rear of the store, near the back store room," Grissom noted.

"What's that in his hand?" Nick asked taking over the computer keyboard to zoom in on the focal point.

"Looks like a bottle of powder," Grissom said his brow furrowed.

"What the hell is he gonna do with that?" Nick asked quickly printing off the image and allowing the video to continue playing. It was then they watched as the suspect put the muzzle of his gun to the bottom of the bottle and fired a round causing the bottle to explode, a shower of powder causing a cloud. "What the hell?" Nick asked.

"Hang on," Grissom said cueing up the first tape. "Let's synchronize these tapes," he said tweaking a few knobs and starting the videos back up. "It's only a diversion," he said a smile tickling the corner of his mouth. "All the attention is on the back of the store."

"Damn, these guys are trying to get smart on us?" Nick shook his head.

"Not smart enough, though," Grissom said, this time a genuine smile coming across his face, this one almost reaching his eyes. "Look," he pointed.

"Amateur," Nick grinned, the frustration he was beginning to feel easing away. "Did Catherine pick up the fragments?"

"They're in trace," Grissom nodded.

"I'll get to work," Nick smiled getting up from his seat and heading to the lab.

"Find me when you're done," his boss nodded heading to his office. On the video monitor was a frozen image of the distracting suspect. He wore a ski mask as had the first two suspects, a gun in one hand powder in the other, and no gloves.

_Amateurs_, Nick thought as he began the process of printing the bottle fragments. Hopefully they'd have a more solid lead come the start of shift tonight. One could only hope.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note:** Thanks for all the reviews! Here's a new chapter. I'll try to update before the weekend's up! Look for chapter ten Sunday!

* * *

**Sunday 4:00 p.m.****

* * *

**

"Brass is bringing him in now," Nick said into his phone. He was walking through the lab, field kit in hand, when Grissom gave him a call. "I'm on my way over to the interview room, now," he said turning the corner at the reception desk. Had he not been watching where he was going, he would have run head on into his supervisor.

The two men, phone still to ear, looked at each other agape. A smile quickly crossed the younger CSI's face as he began to laugh.

It was a genuine smile, something Grissom hadn't realized how much he'd missed seeing on the younger man's face. The smile reached all the way to his eyes.

"Hey, I was about to ask if you wanted to meet me over there," Nick said closing his phone.

"Yeah, I'll meet you over there," his boss nodded. "I've got some paperwork to drop off to Ecklie first," he said motioning with the file folder in his hand. There seemed to be less tension between the two supervisors as of late. Nick knew the reason why. It was something never really talked about. Something he was relieved had been rectified for the time being anyway. It sure made working in the lab a hell of a lot easier.

He nodded as Grissom made his way to the lab supervisor's office.

"See you over there," he said as Warrick entered the lab. The tall CSI had an ease in his stride.

"Hey bro," Warrick nodded noticing Nick. Had he been here all day?

"We've got our first suspect," Nick grinned.

"Who?"

"Brian Ferris. I'm going to PD now."

"Let me drop by my locker on the way," his friend said walking with him down the hall.

"So what's the connection?" Warrick asked as they left the locker room.

"Not sure yet," Nick shrugged. "Griss and I looked at surveillance tapes from the fourth robbery. This kid decided to join the heist. Caught him on tape creating a ruckus in the store while the robbery was going down," he said handing Warrick the still photos from the video. "Remember the powder we found on the bullets?"

"Yeah."

"We matched the powder to what was found in the store. Cath collected broken bottle fragments. The kid didn't wear gloves," he laughed. "We matched his prints through AFIS."

"He's had priors?"

"Shoplifting, vandalism…" Nick listed, "nothing too major."

"So, why did he show up this time around?"

"Guess we'll find out."

"Does he know Kevin McCallum?"

Another grin spread across Nick's face. It was enough of an answer.

"Oh, this is tight," Warrick said with a slight chuckle. He handed the file back to Nick. They were standing outside the interview room now.

"Is he in there?" Nick asked Brass. The detective was waiting in the hall.

"Yeah," he nodded as Grissom came walking toward them. "Is the whole class here, now?" he asked getting a smirk in return as Grissom joined their group.

"Let's get this going," Grissom said.

"Nick and I have a visit to make to Kevin after this," Warrick nodded as he and Grissom made their way to the adjoining observation room. They would just watch.

Nick and Brass entered the interview room.

Brian Ferris was a scared kid. He was scrawny for the 21 year old that he was. He sank into his chair next to his lawyer, Steve McArthur. His shaggy brown hair hung just below the top of his ears and into his eyes. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black hoodie. He was closing himself off.

"Tell me Brian," Brass started as he and Nick took their seats across the table, "what'd you do Saturday night?"

He didn't answer. He just locked his eyes on an invisible spot on the table. The young man more resembled a sulky teenager than an undergrad.

"What is this all about?" the boy's attorney spoke up. "You drag my client out of his dorm in handcuffs without an explanation…" he trailed off.

"Why don't we ask Brian?" Brass shrugged. "So, how 'bout it Brian?"

"I was in my apartment," he shrugged, "watching a movie."

"All night?" the detective asked.

"Yeah," he shrugged.

"Were you alone?"

"My roommates were there," he shrugged.

"What'd you all do before that?" he asked the boy. "Maybe make a run to the grocery store?"

"Again, I ask what does this have to do with…" the attorney was cut off.

"I'm sure you've heard about the chain of robberies," Brass said looking at the lawyer.

"And you think my client had anything to do with them?"

"Oh, not all of them, just the fourth one," Brass said.

"Hell no!" the boy said raising his voice. His attorney quickly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Then tell me why we found your prints at the scene?" Nick said leaning forward placing the open file folder in front of the suspect. "We have you on camera," he said, "You didn't even wear gloves."

"We've got a warrant to search your apartment," Brass said. "Anything you want to tell us?"

The boy sank back into his chair. He was done talking.

"That's fine," Brass nodded. "Why don't you guys get comfortable," he said standing.

"Let me see your hands," Nick said opening his kit.

"What?" the boy asked a glare in his eye.

"Your hands," the CSI said, "palms up."

"It's in the warrant," Brass assured the lawyer.

The boy slowly complied.

"You're testing for gunshot residue?" the lawyer asked, familiar with the test as Nick proceeded.

"Now turn them," the CSI said as the boy turned his hands palms down.

"You saw the photos Mac," Brass said to the attorney, they had crossed paths more than once in a suspect interview. "Don't sound so surprised," he said a glare in his eye as Nick packed up his evidence kit. "Now, don't go anywhere," he smiled as he followed the CSI out of the room.

"So tell me there's a connection between this guy and Kevin McCallum," Grissom said as he and Warrick joined their co-workers in the hallway.

"How's this for a connection," Nick said handing Grissom the second file folder he'd been holding on to. He deliberately saved this card to be played in a later round. This was his Ace.

"Kevin McCallum is Brian Ferris' roommate?" Grissom looked up incredulously. The grin was back on Nick's face. He loved his job when the pieces fell into place. And tonight, it was Valentine's Day.


	10. Chapter 10

**Note:** I know I said Sunday...but I figured you'd all appreciate getting this chapter a day earlier! Not sure exactly how much longer this will go...I've got a couple more surprises up my sleeve...so stay tuned, I'll update as quickly as possible!

* * *

**Sunday 5:00 p.m.

* * *

**"Damn, when'd it start raining?" Nick asked as he and Warrick ran to the waiting SUV. They were meeting Brass at the apartment of Brian Ferris and Kevin McCallum. Grissom had gone home for a couple hours before coming back to his office to catch up on paperwork before the start of shift. "This city was not built for this weather," he shook his head, his increasingly shaggier hair spraying water, as he climbed into the passenger seat.

"Their apartment's on the north side of campus?" Warrick asked starting the ignition.

"Yeah," Nick nodded with a yawn.

"Dude, have you gotten any sleep since last night?" he asked making his way into traffic.

"I crashed for an hour or so in the break room this afternoon," he shrugged.

"You don't think you're pushing this a little hard?" he asked glancing at his friend from the corner of his eye.

"Rick, don't start this," Nick sighed looking out the passenger window. "Griss has already been on my back."

"Hey, I'm not starting anything," the man said raising a hand up in defense.

"You're just worried," Nick bobbed his head with a roll of his eyes. "I know the drill. Look, I'll pull myself out before I get too deep."

"You look tired is all, bro."

"I'll be alright. If we get done with the kid's apartment I'll take a couple hours before shift," he shrugged hoping to appease his friend.

It seemed to work. The two rode the rest of the way in silence.

The rain had all but stopped when they arrived to the campus apartment. Brass was waiting for them outside.

"I had the landlord open the place up for his," he said meeting the CSIs halfway down the walkway. "Kevin McCallum is nowhere to be found."

"That sucks," Warrick sighed as the three men entered the first floor apartment.

"Looks like the kids are a little behind in their housekeeping," Brass smirked.

Nick and Warrick pulled on their latex gloves and got to work.

"So, what exactly are we looking for?" Brass asked taking in the posters hanging around the room as he pulled on a glove of his own.

"Aw, you know Jim," Nick said heading to one of the two bedrooms down the hall. "Anything that could link these guys to the robberies."

"Right," the man nodded flipping cushions on the sofa, "silly me."

Warrick had found his way into the connecting kitchen as Brass fumbled around.

"Hey, I could have some blood here," Warrick called out. He was busy pulling out a cotton swab to test the miniscule drops he'd found in the sink.

"Check this out," Nick said returning to the living room, his prize, a 9mm semi-automatic, in hand.

"Damn," Warrick said looking up. "These guys are just felony stupid."

"Let me guess," Brass said, "under the bed?"

"Top of the closet," Nick shook his head placing the gun into a clear evidence bag.

"Ah, of course," the detective said.

"We're positive for blood here," Warrick said pulling out his spray bottle of Phenolphthalein.

"Whoa!" Brass said from beside the couch.

"What've you got?" Warrick asked turning around from the sink.

Brass held up his prize.

"Nice," the CSI said taking in the evidence, a black tee shirt. "Please tell me there's some blood on that shirt."

"You're the scientist, Rick," the detective smiled handing over the shirt.

"We'll have to get a DNA sample from Brian Ferris," Warrick said as Nick joined the men again.

"I found some nice kicks," he smiled holding up another evidence bag.

"Man, those are some sweet Nikes," Warrick said admiring the two pair of sneakers. "Expensive, too."

"Well, hey, we've got plenty to hold Ferris on," Brass said.

"We'll have to match his DNA to the blood to slam his case shut," Warrick said.

"We still need to find Kevin McCallum," Nick said placing his bagged evidence on the floor. "We really don't have that much to nail these guys. And there's still a third suspect out there."

"A left handed shooter," Warrick nodded remembering Nick's description from the first scene.

"From what I've seen, these kids could just be accomplices. Our shooter is still unknown," Nick nodded.

"It's safe to say, without Kevin McCallum we don't have a case," Warrick nodded.

"Who's to say even if we find this punk, he'll talk?" Brass asked.

"You place a murder charge in front of a scared kid…"Nick started as he heard a commotion at the door.

There, if only for a brief second, stood Kevin McCallum. Taking in the scene and most notably, Nick and Warrick he quickly took off down the lawn.

"Damn it!" Warrick said quick to catch tail as Nick ran out of the apartment. "Why do these dumb-ass kids always have to run?"

The rain slicked sidewalk made it only slightly harder to run. The asphalt parking lot, however, proved otherwise as their suspect began weaving in and out of cars. Nick was on his tail as he slid on the blacktop and slammed into a car.

"Shit!" he said as Warrick quickly caught up with him. "Go left," he pointed to his partner quickly picking back up on the chase. The kid was fast.

The CSIs were being lead to a park across the street.

_Damn it,_ Warrick thought quick to follow suit and dodge traffic. Wet grass was not a good running surface. _This is gonna end now,_ he shook his head as he and Nick simultaneously jumped their suspect from behind.

"Get off of me!" the boy yelled. The commotion quickly grabbed the attention of the few passerbies in the park. They were soon congregating near the ruckus.

"Are you stupid man?" Nick asked bringing the kid to his feet. "What'd you run for?"

Kevin McCallum just glared at the criminalist.

"What you don't recognize him?" Warrick asked escorting the kid back to the apartment. "You just say him two days ago, remember?" he said gruffly leading the boy across the street. "You're a punk, you know that? You made me get my good jeans dirty."

"Go to hell," the kid said.

"Now, there's no need for hostility," Nick said as the three approached the apartment. Brass was on his radio.

"Scratch that," he said into the hand-held device. "Suspect is in custody."

"You must be crazy kid," he said turning the kid to cuff him, "of just felony stupid. Kevin McCallum, you're under arrest in connection with four robberies. If you're lucky we'll even award you with six murders," he said into the kid's ear as he led him to the waiting squad car. "Take him to PD," the detective said to the officer shutting the car door.

"You okay?" Warrick asked Nick as they watched the car pull away.

"I'll live," he nodded rubbing his shoulder as they returned to the apartment. They gathered their evidence and did another run through of each room, making sure they got everything that seemed in the least bit relevant to their case.

"Look, it's almost seven," Warrick said looking at his watch as they climbed back into their Denali. "I'll get this stuff going in the lab. Why don't you go home for a while?" he said to Nick as they pulled away from the college campus. "We can let this kid sit in a cell for a while. You need to get a couple hours of sleep."

"Yeah," he nodded willingly taking his friends advice. He was running down quickly. There was no way he'd make it through shift tonight without a hot shower and some sleep.

Arriving back at the lab Nick parted ways with his partner and climbed into his own truck. It was already dark; the temperature was dropping rather quickly. It was already in the lower 40's. He hated the cold of nighttime, the cold of the desert.

_Forgot to leave a light on_, Nick thought as he pulled into his driveway. His house was dark. He grabbed his mail and unlocked his door. Laying his keys on the nearby table he checked his answering machine. Three new messages. They'd have to wait.

He made a beeline for his room and crashed.

_Two hours should do it,_ he thought setting his alarm. It would give him time to shower and get back to the lab in time to follow up on the evidence before the team powwow at the beginning of regular shift.

Sleep was good. And for two hours, that's what he did. He slept.


	11. Chapter 11

**Note: **So, after re-reading chapter ten, I've decided I'm exactly happy with it...I feel like it really wasn't up to par with the rest of them. My writing style seemed a little choppy...I dunno...anyway THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS! I'm trying to find time to reply to you guys and let you know how much I appreciate the kind words!  
Here's the next installment of this little fic! It's a pretty subdued chapter...considering the previous chapter's happenings! In this chapter I make a brief mention of a case from one of the CSI novels Sin City …strictly for plot purposes here…so if you don't remember the case from the shows…that's why. There's no need to have read the book to understand any of this…though I do recommend the book…it's some very good CSI reading! I just thought it'd be an interesting tie in...a past CSI TV case...and a CSI novel case come head-to-head...Let me know what y'all think!

* * *

**Sunday 11:00 p.m.

* * *

**"We only found one gun at the apartment," Warrick said. He was walking with Grissom toward the break room.

"This leaves us two guns short."

"I've got DNA being run on the bloody shirt we found and having that cross matched with a sample I got from both suspects as well as the blood I found in the drain."

"Well, it's a start," Grissom shrugged as the two entered the room. "Is everyone here?" he asked glancing around the room. "Where's Nick?"

"He's coming in an hour late," Warrick said pouring a cup of coffee.

"Right," the supervisor shook his head. "Okay, here's what I've got. Catherine, Sara, and Greg, I want you guys to take the 419 at Mandalay Bay," he said handing Catherine the assignment sheet. "I'll be with Warrick and Nick wrapping up these robbery cases when I'm not working on budget reports. Keep me in the loop," he said pointing a finger as the three CSIs stood to leave the room.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were the supervisor of this team," Catherine smiled giving the man a pat on the shoulder.

"I figured you were tired of doing it for me," he grinned with a shrug.

"Careful Gil," she smiled at the door, "you may have Ecklie looking over his own shoulder now."

The man only smiled as he watched his team disperse. He nearly cringed at the thought of the stack of papers awaiting him at his desk. He was at least a week behind on his reports. Granted it was an improvement from the months worth he used to accumulate, but then again, there still wasn't a lack of paperwork. It seemed the reports were growing in length; a week's worth of reports now looked like what a months worth may have looked like back in the summer. Just thinking about them gave the man a headache.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator, Grissom made up his mind to get the work done. The sooner the better. He really hated paperwork.

**Monday 12:00 a.m.

* * *

**"Hey sleeping beauty," Warrick said looking up from the file in front of him as Nick entered the break room. "It's about time you got here. I called your cell at least three times in the last hour. Our case is bustin' out."

"Sorry, I had it silenced by mistake. What's up?" Nick asked coming up alongside his partner.

"I just got DNA back on the blood we found at the apartment."

"Yeah?"

"The blood on the shirt is a match to the blood I collected from the sink drain."

"What about our suspects?" Nick asked looking over Warrick's shoulder at the report.

"Neither kid is a match," the man shook his head. "We're still looking for the third suspect."

"We still need to interview Kevin McCallum, right?"

"Yeah. I'm waiting for Brass to give me a call," he nodded. "I started looking into the punk's background, though," he handed Nick a folder.

"He's a senior at UNLV. Well we already knew that," Nick said taking a seat while looking over the reports.

"Keep reading."

"Average GPA. Looks like he's taken a few decent classes. He's a business major, huh?"

"Yeah, I don't think he's all that interested in becoming an entrepreneur, though."

"He was busted for possession of a controlled substance and trafficking." He gave a low whistle through his teeth.

"This kid's gotten pretty deep into drug trafficking from what I understand. Take a look at some of the photos in there."

Nick flipped through some pages. Images of drugs and drug paraphernalia took up several pages of the report.

"This stuff was found on him? Percocet, Vicodin, Demerol…He's a one man walking drug store," Nick shook his head. "Then he escalates: pot, coke, crystal meth…"

"Yeah, he's a good kid my ass," Warrick nodded. "Take a look at the bottom corner of each bag."

"What is that? A little red triangle?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Remember the case a few years ago, the husband reported his wife missing? Turned out she was murdered. We found drugs in the house."

"Yeah, I remember that one. We all liked the husband for the murder," Nick nodded.

"The bags of coke were tagged with a little red triangle," he pointed to the photos.

"What is it? Some kind of calling card?"

Warrick nodded. "Dealers tag their merchandise. This particular dealer is dirty," he said. "He goes by Lil Moe on the street. His real name's Kevin Sadler. We nailed him with the Pierce case, but he's been out for a couple years now. It was this guy's first offense."

"Slap on the wrist," Nick nodded still flipping through the file.

"Basically. Anyway, I've got Brass chasing this guy down. Maybe he can give us some answers."

"And maybe we can tag team with McCallum. What are the chances these two get together?" Nick nodded liking the idea of using the guys against each other. In many cases it proved the best way to get the suspects to fess up to their actions. "So, where are we on the second and third guns?" he asked closing the file.

"We need to get a warrant to search Sadler's place. But, I'm not holding out to find anything. The punk probably dumped the guns someplace."

"Were the dumpsters of the stores ever checked?" Nick asked getting up and grabbing a bottle of water. He tossed one to Warrick as he remained standing.

"I think so," he nodded. "I don't think anything was found."

"What about neighboring stores, alleyways…"Nick trailed off as Grissom entered the room.

"It's been several days since the last robbery," Grissom shook his head. "It wouldn't hurt to check it out. Chances of finding any workable evidence, though, are slim."

"We may be better off searching the city dump," Warrick shook his head.

"You can head there in the morning," Grissom smiled. "For now, the dumpsters will do."

"What? What about the suspects?" he asked.

"They'll wait. We have enough to hold them right?" he asked looking at both CSIs.

"Well, yeah," the taller CSI said leaning back in his chair.

"And we've got a possible third suspect already?"

"Kevin Sadler," Warrick nodded.

"Sadler…"their boss thought on the name. "Why do I…"

"A case from three years ago," Nick informed his boss. "The drug dealer from the Pierce case."

"Ah, right," Grissom nodded. "Man cuts up wife, man buys a kilo of coke to celebrate. Good, maybe we're getting somewhere. And these two are connected I presume?"

"We're working on that," Warrick nodded.

"So, what do you want us to do?" Nick asked taking a swig of his water.

"Gather the evidence first. Check the dumpsters, and everything around the last grocery store. Chances are, you're right, they've dumped their weapons. When you're done with that let me know."

"And the suspects?" Warrick asked.

"They can wait for now," the man shook his head as Nick and Warrick headed toward the locker room.

It was time to get down and dirty.

It was time to break this case open and claim it solved.


	12. Chapter 12

**Note:** and another new chapter...this one's a little more tense. let me know what you think about it...i hope i got things right in it!

* * *

**Monday 1:45 a.m.****

* * *

**"Man, you're getting the next one," Warrick grimaced as he stood knee deep in the rubbish filled dumpster. He and Nick were in the alley behind the fourth grocery store involved in the recent string of robberies. 

"Keep looking," Nick said from the ground. He was busy searching the ground surrounding the metal bin.

"Man, I can't see anything in this kind of light," he said readjusting his coveralls, his Maglite in hand. They'd already been through three dumpsters and come up empty handed. Their chances of finding any kind of weapon were slim. Though, they were hoping to get lucky. Trash pick-up didn't happen until Monday afternoon. "Hang on a sec," he said as his light brushed the corner of the dumpster.

"What have you got?" Nick asked rising from his crouched position.

"Check this out. Could be blood. Hand me a swab."

Nick complied and grabbed his camera in the process. Warrick took a quick sample and tested the sample.

"What are the odds?" Nick asked with a smile in his eyes as Warrick revealed the test sample.

"Hand me the luminol," he smiled with a nod. He proceeded to spray down the inside of the dumpster, revealing streaks, though only trace amounts, of blood running down the inside wall. "Camera," Warrick said tossing Nick the spray bottle and reaching for the object. He quickly snapped several photos and tossed the camera back to his partner before diving back into the muck. He had a feeling he'd be rewarded this time.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner," Nick smiled, this time his entire face lit up, as Warrick stood to reveal a Colt .45.

"Wonder whose prints we'll find on this?" Warrick asked as Nick opened an evidence bag for the gun. Warrick dropped the gun in the bag and finished his search of the dumpster.

"Or whose blood," Nick smiled noticing the dried blood on the butt of the gun.

"No shit," Warrick said taking a closer look.

Nick smiled and nodded. "Well, that's one down."

"Yeah, one more to go. Hope your ready to get dirty my friend," Warrick said giving his friend a pat on the shoulder as he landed on his feet on the asphalt. "Hey, Metcalfe, we need to tape this area off," Warrick called down the alley to the cop. As of late, the CSIs never returned to a crime scene without at least one officer on site. Just one officer was a rarity even, but tonight was a busy night in Vegas. Metcalfe, notorious for being a prick, had been assigned to this particularly dead scene.

"Hey, Rick watch where you're going," Nick said shining his light on the ground. "We've got a blood trail here."

"What?" he asked pointing his light down. "How'd this not get washed away in the rain this afternoon?"

Nick pointed his flashlight up. They were under a fire escape. The trail was washed away on the outlying areas, but protected from the rain underneath the grated stairs.

"Who cares, let's just get the sample and hope it matches what we found in the dumpster. Maybe our shooter got injured trying to get away from this last robbery," Nick shrugged pulling a swab from his kit and collecting the evidence.

Warrick looked down the alley where the officer was taping off the area around the dumpster where he'd found the gun. "Hey, Metcalfe, when you're done there come make yourself useful," he said as he watched the cop tie off the last of the crime scene tape.

"Four different homicides tonight and I get stuck babysitting you guys," Metcalfe said under his breath as he approached the two criminalists.

"You know the drill," Warrick said glaring at the man. Nick was busy taking photos of the blood drops and had apparently not heard the man's comment, or at least had chosen to not let it affect him.

"Look at the directionality of these drops," Nick pointed as Metcalfe began taping off the new area. "They're heading south down the alley."

"Whoever they were," Warrick nodded as he turned his attention back to the evidence, "they were running."

"Did either of our guys have any cuts or…"Nick asked.

"Nah, man, nothin'," Warrick shook his head.

"So we're back to our mystery third suspect." Nick stood up, draped the camera around his neck, and placed his hands on his hip.

"What are you thinking?" Warrick asked.

"We're looking for a ghost."

* * *

**Monday 2:30 a.m.

* * *

**"Alright, that's the last dumpster," Nick said brushing off his coveralls as he jumped out of the dumpster at the far end of the alley. 

"Man, maybe the punk didn't ditch the weapon," Warrick sighed.

"Or maybe we're just looking in all the wrong places."

"Well, that much is obvious. Where else is there to dump a gun back here?"

"Wait a second," Nick said heading back to grocer store.

"What?" Warrick asked picking up the field kit and following his partner.

"We were so busy looking in the dumpsters…" he trailed off picking up his step. "Did you notice that broken window back by the second dumpster?"

"What broken window?"

"Exactly," Nick nodded. "Check it out," he said shining his light up to the second floor of an abandoned building. Warrick followed with his own light. "What if the weapon was tossed up? There's no blood evidence before the fourth dumpster," he said. "Someone had to cut themselves before dumping the other gun."

"Come on, man, you think the suspects were smart enough for that? I mean, they'd have to have pretty good aim, not to mention a good arm."

"Maybe," Nick shrugged looking around on the ground. Finding what he hoped he would, he picked up a decent sized rock. "Let's see," he said chucking the rock toward the window. It easily flew through the open glass.

"Man, you just love to show me up," Warrick shook his head making his way to the nearby fire escape. "Whoa! Check this out, bro. I've got some shards of glass here. It's not much, but could be from our window."

"I'll bag it up," Nick nodded as Warrick sidestepped the evidence and pulled down the ladder and began is ascent. "Let me know what you find," he smiled watching his friend climb up.

"You know you're coming up here too, right?"

"Right behind you," Nick laughed securing the evidence in his field kit and pulling himself up the ladder. "Why don't you chill for a little, Metcalfe?" he smiled at the cop who obviously wanted to be anywhere else but that dark alley.

There was more glass on the inside of the window. It made sense, since the window had apparently been broken from the outside. Warrick was already making his way into the darkened room when Nick climbed through the window, careful not to disturb any possible evidence. Nick collected a few pieces of glass to make a match to the glass found on the ground below.

"Here's the rock you threw up," Warrick noted scanning the area for a possible weapon. "And what do ya know?" he smiled holding up the subject of their search.

"A 9mm semi-automatic," Nick smiled joining his friend near the center of the room. "Let's get these things back to the lab, he said turning to exit the room the way they'd entered.

Nick was halfway across the room when he heard the distinctive sound of a gun being cocked. Stopping mid-stride, he slowly turned to face his partner. It only took a second for him to register the sight of his friend being held at gunpoint.

"Reach for your gun and I'll shoot him," said a voice from behind the tall criminalist.

Nick froze, trying his best to think quickly on his feet.

"Drop all that shit," he said putting Warrick in a choke hold. This made it easier for Nick to see the man they were dealing with. He was no more than a kid, possibly in his early to mid 20s. This had to be Lil Mo. He was using Warrick's gun against him.

"Look, man, you don't want to do this," Nick said slowly lowering the evidence to the floor. "There's a cop right outside the window," he motioned to the window over his shoulder.

"You think I give a damn?" he asked tightening his grip on Warrick who grimaced in pain. He had turned the gun on Nick, now. "You're not gonna take me down for this," the squirrelly kid said.

"You shoot a cop you'll go down for a lot more," he said calmly. There was a fire in his eyes as he saw the anger and desperation in his partner's. They had to get out of this situation.

"You don't want to do this," Warrick said between gritted teeth.

"Shut up," he said tightening his hold one more time. "You think I don't know what you guys do? Man, you're the punk that sent me away two years ago."

Nick didn't know what to say for fear of making the situation worse than it already was.

"You're a real punk, you know that?" Warrick said looking at Nick. What was he doing? "You're just standing there letting this kid get the best of us? Some partner you are, can't even have my back?"

"Shut up," the suspect said nervously his eyes shifting from one CSI to the other. He wasn't sure on which man he should train the gun.

"Man, I'd have…" he trailed off weaseling his way out of the kids grip and pulling out a massive right hook. The kid flew back taking the brunt of the hit to the face. The gun fell to the ground as the kid fell hard. It all happened instantaneously.

"Metcalfe!" Nick called out running up to his partner. "You alright?" he asked kicking the gun away from the suspect who lay moaning on the ground. Warrick had quickly tackled and subdued him on the ground.

"Punk didn't even take off the safety," Warrick smirked digging a knee into the suspects back. Metcalfe was in the room within seconds surveying the scene.

"What the hell?"

"Arrest this prick," Warrick motioned with his head. He stood as the officer handcuffed the kid and lead him out of the room.

"You alright?" Nick asked the room now empty.

"Yeah. You?" Warrick nodded rubbing his hand.

"Yeah. Let's get this stuff to the lab," Nick nodded as Warrick picked up his gun and put it back in his hip holster.

Nick followed his partner out of the room, collecting the evidence as they left. They secured the scene and rode back to the lab in silence. It was a dark night, no stars, no moon. As they pulled into the parking lot and climbed out of the Denali lightning lit up the sky. It was raining again.


	13. Chapter 13

**Note:** so this is the last chapter...I felt like any more would just be dragging it out too much. Hopefully everything comes together nicely...let me know! Thanks for the reviews! I'm working on a new piece...hopefully i can start posting in the next couple days! Until then...

* * *

**Monday 5:00 a.m.

* * *

**

"Bobby D, tell me something good," Nick said breezing into the ballistics lab.

"I can do better than that," the lab tech smiled wheeling across the lab in his chair. "Take a gander," he pointed to the scope he already had set up. Nick put his nose down the scope, a smile inching across his face. "On the right, the bullet you recovered from the last robbery victim. On the right, a bullet I test fired from the 9mm you pulled from the alley."

"Look at that," Nick said with a nod, "striations match up perfectly."

"There's more," Bobby smiled leading the CSI across the lab. "That same gun was used to kill the first three victims."

"The cashier and mother and child from the first scene," Nick nodded.

"Yeah, and the second and third cashiers as well."

"Picture that," Warrick said walking up behind Nick. "We also nailed the kid with his prints all over the gun."

"So we have Kevin Sadler on all six murders?" Nick asked.

"Not so fast," Warrick said pulling out the file in his hand. "I just got the final autopsy reports from Doc. There were two bullets pulled out of the second and third cashiers."

"So, we're looking at which shot was the fatal one," Nick said taking the file from his partner.

"It wasn't this bullet."

"We looking at the Colt .45?" Nick asked.

"Could be. Have you got those?" Warrick asked Bobby.

"Right here," the tech nodded. "Second bullet from victim number four, and sample bullet from the Colt," he pointed to the scope.

"Where was this bullet?" Nick asked looking down the scope.

"Doc pulled it from the occipital lobe of the fourth victim," Warrick read from the report.

"Would definitely be fatal," Nick nodded. "Take a look," he moved so Warrick could get a peek. "So, we're looking at Kevin McCallum for two murders. Can we put the Colt in his hand?"

A grin spread across Warrick's face. There were days when everything just fell into place. This was definitely one of those days.

"Brass is over at PD now. He's waiting for us to call him with the evidence."

* * *

**Monday 6:00 a.m.

* * *

**

"Come on Kevin, we know you were there," Brass said. Kevin McCallum sat next to his lawyer in the interview room. Brass stood across the table from the boy, pacing the floor. His patience was running thin. "We have you on video."

"You have three robbers on video, all of whom are wearing masks. There is no positive ID. You can't prove my client was part of the robberies," the boy's lawyer spoke up. He had been adamant in declaring his clients innocence.

"You can't possibly believe that can you?" the detective asked the attorney. "We have a witness who can place him at the first scene."

"Come on, detective, you and I both know a voice recognition will never hold up in court," the man in a cheap looking business suit said.

It was then that Nick chose to enter the interview room. With a slight nod to Brass he took a seat across the table from the suspect.

"You know Nick Stokes, right Kevin?" Brass asked taking a seat next to the criminalist. "He investigated the death of your brother a few years ago."

"Now, tell me something. If you weren't part of the robberies," Nick started opening the files he'd brought in with him, "tell me about the stuff we found in your apartment. The shoes, the bloody shirt…we matched the blood on the shirt to you," he said laying out photos of the evidence for the boy to see.

"My client is prone to nose bleeds," the lawyer interjected.

"Yeah, I've heard that before," Brass smirked, "but you're right. You are," he said, sarcasm thick in his voice. "But, that's not even the best thing we've got."

"We went back to the fourth scene. Guess what we found in a dumpster in the back alley?" Nick said pulling up another photo.

"Look familiar?" Brass asked eyeing Kevin.

"We found your blood on the dumpster where we found the gun and we found your prints on the gun. This is the same gun registered to your mother, right?" Nick asked.

"Why don't you tell us what happened," Brass said leaning forward, placing his arms on the table top, clasping his hands together. "What, did you need drug money?" he asked. "I've seen your file. You and Kevin Sadler are in business together right? What, couldn't pay off your dealer so you had to steal the money?"

"The thing is…killing the cashier wasn't part of the plan was it?" Nick asked. "I was in the first store, Kevin. I saw your eyes. You were scared to death. Things got out of control."

"Look, we've got you whether you talk or not," Brass said standing to leave. "We've got your roommate and your drug partner too. You guys are looking at life in prison, minimum."

"Lil Mo was running the whole operation," Kevin blurted out as Nick headed toward the door. "He killed all those people."

"Kevin, we matched the bullets from your gun to the bullets found in the victims at the second and third scene. You killed those two cashiers," Nick stopped short of the door to address the boy. He looked scared. He looked like the kid he remembered from the case three years ago.

"We want a deal," the attorney said. "He'll talk, tell you how it happened."

"We know how it happened," Brass said, his hand on the door knob. "Six people are dead because some punk kid needed drug money. Now he's gonna have to deal," he smirked walking out of the room.

Warrick met the detective and his partner in the hall. Grissom was with him. The two had observed the interview from the other side of the double paned mirror.

"So, we've got all three kids?" Grissom asked.

Nick nodded.

"Where does the roommate come in? And why just the last robbery?"

"Who knows why kids do anything these days?" Brass shrugged with a shake of his head. "Maybe he wanted something to do on a Saturday night."

"Well, it's not exactly the answer I wanted."

"Look, we got the kids, who cares why they did it?" Warrick said leaning against the wall. It was nearing the end of shift, he was tired.

"Well, nice job guys," Grissom nodded as they watched the three suspects being led away in handcuffs. "Why don't you go home, get some rest."

* * *

**Monday 6:45 a.m.

* * *

**

"You up for some breakfast?" Warrick asked following Nick into the locker room.

"Nah, I think I'm just gonna go home. I need some sleep," he said pulling his coat from his locker. The days were getting cooler as November dwindled to an end. "I'll see you tonight, bro."

"A'ight. Later, man," Warrick watched Nick leave.

The sun was just coming over the horizon as Nick walked to his truck. He pulled out his cell phone and punched the call button. His mom had called three times within the past 24 hours. It was time to return the call and break the news; they'd have to have another Thanksgiving without him. They should be used to it by now, he thought putting the keys in the ignition and pulling into traffic. He put on his sunglasses to ward off the sun's glare through his rearview mirrors. It promised to be another nice day in Vegas and nothing sounded better to Nick than sleeping through it. It's a price he didn't mind paying. After all, he really loved his job.


End file.
